


Golden Hour

by stopmopingstarthoping



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dom/sub, Masturbation, Multi, Nude Photos, Polyamory, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 12:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17683613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: Cor spends an evening by himself looking at some of his favorite photos.





	Golden Hour

It's part of the… understanding that Aranea and Ignis have with Cor. The two of them are each to send him a photo once a day. Not a cheery selfie or generic snap, either. Yes, _that_ kind of photo.

It's been a long day at the Citadel, and Cor does his best to put the buzzing annoyance of the demands of idiots behind him. Whiskey helps. He savors the brown liquid, rolling it slowly in his mouth before swallowing. A gift from the governor of Altissia, as he remembers. He stares down at the glass and ponders. Would probably shock the fuck out of her to know her diplomatic offering was used in the lewd ritual he's about to engage in.

Or not, he thinks, tossing back the last sip and setting his glass down on the small table next to him. Everyone's got their secrets, after all, and Cor is no exception.

He shifts slightly, thinking of the enjoyment of looking through his little collection. He doesn't let himself pick up his phone quite yet, though - the anticipation is pleasurable too, and he makes himself savor it.

He remembers how the two of them had reacted to his request and smiles to himself. She'd responded with her characteristic enthusiasm, and immediately the photos she'd sent were delightfully filthy. It had taken little encouragement to get her to record escapades with willing participants, and the last one had been a short video with a black-haired beauty who was clearly as attentive and talented as she was lovely. Cor cleared his throat and tensed his stomach thinking about it; his pants were uncomfortably tight and he hadn't even looked at anything yet.

Ignis had been harder to convince. More naturally private, he'd met Cor’s initial request with a furrowed brow. But it had been accompanied by a deep blush that Cor had noticed, so he started calling Ignis every so often to describe Aranea’s offerings and how much he enjoyed them. After a few of the calls ended in raunchy phone sex between the two of them, Ignis felt more comfortable (and perhaps lust and competitiveness had lent a hand too - Cor knew his partners well).

Ignis had, as he always did, risen beautifully to the occasion. His range was impressive, from tasteful nudes to sweaty, messy photos of raw sexual moments. He included other partners less often than Aranea did, but Cor suspected that had more to do with Aranea’s superior skill in sweet-talking folks into agreeing to be filmed.

It had, though, nearly given Cor a heart attack to see a tall, broad, white-haired man show up in Ignis’ photos, desperately railing him in a coat closet in the Citadel, a hand firmly to Ignis’ mouth to silence him. They'd clearly tried to crop out his face, but Cor mused that a man with a distinctive metal arm would probably know he'd be identified anyway. The business quadrant of Cor’s brain had set off security alarms, but he'd listened to that only after furiously pleasuring himself to the set of photos. As he’d dropped the phone to the bed and let his chest heave in recovery, Cor pondered that the photos had made excellent use of the darkness, swirling light and shadow while somehow avoiding graininess. He’d have to make sure to compliment Ignis about that. The knowing look in Ignis’ eyes had been particularly enticing, looking out over the pale fingers pressed to his lips.

Cor had decided not to tell Ignis yet about Aranea’s set of close up, personal views of her choking on the same man's cock, the silver glint of that metal hand complementing the silvery hue of her hair gripped in its fingers. Perhaps that would be a nice surprise for all of them the next time that particular delegation visited, he ponders.

Once he'd gotten into it, Ignis had clearly enjoyed the idea of sending intimate photos and sharing private moments. He’d figured out how to push Cor’s buttons in a unique and calculated way, with a perfect sense for the specific little moments to capture that would make Cor’s toes curl. The few-second video of Ignis, nearly spent but tipping over the edge, gasping their names into a hotel bed, flushed and mussed and writhing, is one of Cor’s favorite treasures.

He thinks of it now and stands up abruptly. Enough build up. He adjusts himself roughly and strides to his bedroom, plucking his phone crisply from the table on his way.

He drops it onto his nightstand and removes all of his clothes with a precision that is a little feverish. Cor allows himself the frivolous indulgence of running his hands over his own skin before settling in, retrieving a bottle of lube from the nightstand, and opening his favorite folder.

The few photos he has of the two of them together are always first. The three of them don’t have nearly enough time together, but they take what they can get, and the other two have managed to sneak some private moments without him. They never forget to send him a little memento.

Cor opens up the first one with a swipe of his thumb and sighs a little. He has no idea how they posed this, but it's one of his favorites. Aranea is atop Ignis, and his graceful fingers part her pink, glistening folds. He's not yet devouring her in that way that he does yet, but the look of intense focus captured in Ignis’ eyes make clear he's about to. Cor's breath speeds up, hitching a little. He clicks the lube open deliberately and drizzles a generous amount into his palm. He'll be here a while.

The next photo is the companion shot, with Aranea’s other set of lips wrapped around Ignis’ shaft. Her silver strands drape down, framing smooth-shaven balls that are tucked up tightly against his body. Her eyes are closed in concentration in the photo, and Cor groans and slides a slick hand up his own cock.

The next photos, Cor ponders pridefully, are just damned impressive. Both his partners have a strength and a lithe grace that not only photographs well, but provides for a dizzying array of possibilities. Cor shudders and watches the lean lines of his own stomach tense as he pages through the three photos; a perfect display of sensual, athletic bliss.

Limbs twine and muscles flex in the shots - they can each pick the other one up, and they have; and Cor doesn’t know why the two of them so easily handling each other does it for him, but it _does_ and he’s painfully hard already. He has to stop his hand from increasing the pace too quickly, and he stops to look at legs slung over shoulders, backs arched in effort and pleasure.

The next one is just Aranea’s face. Ignis’ shoulder is in the shot, but his face is buried in her neck. She's flushed and disheveled, and they've managed to capture her right at the height of her pleasure. She's coming for Ignis, but for Cor, too, as the camera captures her, head tipped back in ecstasy, lips swollen.

Cor likes this one for a few reasons. The most obvious is Aranea’s beauty - the deep flush against her porcelain skin, the eyelashes fluttering down against her cheeks, the gentle curve of her jaw down to the point of her chin.

But he also likes the little details: the grip of Aranea’s fingers as they dig into Ignis’ shoulder, the flex of his back as he drives into her.

Finally, Cor likes that they've thought of him; that they don't forget who takes care of them. It's no replacement for being there, of course, but in a way he _was_ there, and Cor enjoys that.

He imagines he can hear them, and Cor moans a little and works his fist faster over his cock.

The next one is Aranea, bound and gagged and looking absolutely defiant. He doesn't know if this was a prelude to a play session, or if she dressed up just to take the photo for him. Cor imagines it both ways, and a quiet sound escapes his lips. She's on her knees, legs spread, thighs bound to calves, arms behind her back. Despite the gag, she looks about to sass him, and it's the dark look in her eyes as much as the plump ripeness of her erect nipples that makes a deep tingle ache at the base of Cor's spine.

His hand twitches with the desire to brush her hair out of her face and grip it a little in his fist. His other hand squeezes and twists over the tip of his cock, the lube making a wet sound. Cor feels his heart pound. He stares at the photo for a long moment, examining the black-and-white tones of it.

The next two, in quick succession - Ignis’ back, covered in beautiful red stripes. And a photo of his pleading face and weeping cock, which had been accompanied by a message telling Cor he'd dutifully not touched himself for five days and could he please be permitted to come now, if it would make Cor happy?

Cor had told him no, of course, and fucked Ignis into the mattress the following day. The low, animalistic groans he'd pulled from him are embedded deep in Cor’s brain, as is the tight slide of his beautiful ass. Cor stops, and squeezes roughly at the base of his own cock. Discipline. He isn't done yet.

The next one Cor remembers well because it's one he took.

The look of trust, of utter surrender is so rare with her. Ignis will lose himself, is happy to go to that place where he's not in control and glass over, but Aranea almost always holds something back. This photo is from a beautiful day the three of them had spent together, playing and resting and playing some more. Aranea is relaxed and unguarded; half-lidded eyes above a lazy smile, and Cor’s taken the photo from below as she rides him. Ignis’ gorgeously sculpted lips graze her neck, and his hand cups her breast. This one is usually enough to send Cor over the edge, and he feels a small, telltale tremor rush through his body.

He’s startled when the phone in his hand buzzes and dings with an incoming message. Normally, he’d ignore it, but the small preview says it's from Aranea, and that there's an attachment. He taps open the message.

It's a video, and it's startlingly raunchy. Relatively vanilla, as their interactions go, but scorchingly sexy. Just thirty seconds of Aranea bringing herself off hard, staring right into the camera until her eyes roll back and flutter closed and she writhes, rough breaths rasping out. Her cries fill Cor's ears, and the video ends too soon - he has to watch it again. Her pleasure seeps under his skin, hot and liquid as he watches cords of muscle tense on the tiny screen.

He’s barely holding on when he notices that she’s sent the video to him _and_ to Ignis at the same time, without asking first. Cor lets out a breathy chuckle - she knows that’s against the rules. If he had to guess, he suspects she’s defied him on purpose. She’s a brat for a reason, after all, and she loves, positively _loves_ taking Cor’s punishments.

Cor’s vision is blurring, but his phone buzzes again, and this message is from Ignis. Just a photo - one long, lean thigh with come splattered up its length and what Cor knows well is Ignis’ cock laying against it, spent and flushed. He’s _also_ sent it to both of them, and Ignis rarely disobeys.  

Cor’s not usually vocal, but the thought of disciplining them both together is too much, and a low “ _fuck_ ” escapes him as the rush of orgasm finally rips through him. His head flings back as his hips tense upward, and he feels a low growl behind his teeth as he rides it out.

Cor squeezes his cock hard as he comes, slick fingers gripping against throbbing skin, and makes an uncharacteristic mess on himself. The two of them have really undone him this evening, he thinks, as he watches drops fall on his stomach, catching his breath.

He picks his phone up from where it’s fallen next to him and replies to what is now a group text. Just three words, but they make a grin curve his lips and another tingle pulse through him.

_My office. Tomorrow._

They’ll know what he means.

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel, of sorts, to [ Look, Touch, Listen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836727)\- definitely in the same universe as that one. Somewhat incorporates the prompts "dominance" and "duty" for Day 4 of IgCor week. Thank you for reading! You can find me on Twitter @stopmopingstart.


End file.
